


Tea Leaves and Palm Reading

by fangirlsupreme



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Boys Kissing, Co-Written, Divination, First Kiss, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hogwarts, M/M, Palm Reading, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, School Assignments, Tea Leaves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 17:51:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8023363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlsupreme/pseuds/fangirlsupreme
Summary: Harry has a ridiculous assignment for Divination and no one to partner up with. So of course he puts it off until the night before the assignment is due. Desperate not to fail his easiest class, Harry goes searching for someone he can ask. Cue Draco being roped into it by an irritated Blaise looking for revenge. The two boys end up learning more about each other then they had planned.





	Tea Leaves and Palm Reading

**Author's Note:**

> This was an omegle prompt that I wrote with someone that has been sitting in my folders forever, so I thought I'd give it a little polish and toss it out there. Hope you guys like it!

For their final assignment in Divination, Trelawney had decided that what the students really needed to do was harass unsuspecting innocents who hadn't signed up for her nonsense. At least that was how Hermione put it. They had to find someone outside the class and do their horoscope, then read their palms and tea leaves. Hermione had already point blank refused to help, which left Harry with precious few people he knew that weren't either already in the class or already claimed by someone in the class. Which was why the night before the assignment was due found him in the library, scouring the tables for someone, anyone who qualified. He found a table with three people at it, two of whom, as far as he knew, were viable options. Unfortunately, they also happened to be Parkinson and Malfoy. 

He couldn't fail the easiest, most rubbish class in his schedule. It would be humiliating, and Hermione would be so, so smug. He sucked up his dignity, set it gently aside, and marched up to the table. "I have a question," he said, glancing at Zabini, who at least he didn't need anything from at the moment. He was easiest to look at because of it.

"No, we don't pose for photographs," Pansy said with an unfriendly grin, trying to get Potter to leave. Draco didn't even look up from his book. Potter obviously wasn't speaking to him anyway. Draco couldn't remember one time that Potter had addressed him without insulting him first, not that Draco didn't treat Potter the same. Blaise looked at Potter up and down for a moment before raising his eyebrows with a smug smile. "If you're trying to finish the Divination assignment, you can't ask Pansy," he said very matter-of-factly, "I chose her for my assignment. But I'm sure that ickle Draco would be happy to assist you." Draco looked up at the mention of his name, looking between Potter and Blaise. "Excuse me?" he asked, "I would be happy to do what exactly?" Blaise had far too much of a smirk on his face. "Why, help Potter with his Divination assignment, of course," Blaise said with faux innocence. "I said no to you, and I'm not going to change my mind for Potter," Draco said with a huff, "Divination is nonsense."

"I know it's nonsense," Harry agreed, a tinge of desperation in his voice. "But I still need a partner, Malfoy. It won't take long, and I'll owe you a favour." He stood there, gripping the strap of his bag tightly and hoping that Malfoy would be decent for once and agree.

Draco's face took on an uncomfortable, pinched expression as he looked at Potter, as though he smelled something disgusting. Still, the idea of Potter owing him a favour sat very comfortably with him. He was sure that could be useful later. Still, Draco stayed quiet just to make Potter squirm for a few moments more. "Fine," he sighed heavily, sounding extremely put-upon as he heavily closed his book, "Where do you want to do this, because it surely isn't happening in front of these two berks."

"We'll need tea," Harry said, straightening up a little at Malfoy's agreement. He'd been certain Malfoy was going to laugh at him and say no. He certainly didn't seem to want to do this. Harry had known the offer of a favour was a good idea. "We may as well go to the kitchens, if that works for you."

Draco sighed again, putting his things into his bag before hiking it over his shoulder. "Let's go get this over with then," he huffed. "Have fun ickle Draco!" Blaise called happily. He was immediately chastised by Madame Pince and Draco had to resist the urge to stick his tongue out at the other. He strode out of the library, waiting at the door for Potter to catch up.

Harry hurried after Malfoy, the relief at having found a partner warring with the displeasure that the partner was Malfoy. At least he'd be able to tell Trelawney he'd tried when it all ended in disaster, right? He caught up and strode alongside Malfoy toward the kitchens, determined to keep up. "So, it's just tea leaves, a horoscope, and a palm reading," he said as they walked. "It shouldn't take long at all, I promise."

"I know, Blaise asked me before he asked Pansy," Draco said, looking straight ahead instead of at Potter, "Arsehole tried to just take my tea once I was finished, but now he has an unfortunate case of acne on his back." He didn't particularly like being tricked for any reason, and Blaise had only explained after Draco had hexed him. They arrived at the portrait and Draco tickled the pear lightly, walking inside ahead of Potter.

Harry's eyebrows went up, and he resolved to be very certain of where his wand was during this whole meeting. He followed Malfoy through the portrait and ordered tea for them from one of the elves. Harry sat down at a table and gestured for Malfoy to sit next to him, then started pulling his textbooks and a couple rolls of parchment out of his bag. "I only need a little more information for the horoscope," Harry told him, unrolling one of the parchments and frowning at the instructions.

Draco put his bag down and crossed his arms defensively. He wasn't looking forward to this whatsoever. "What do you need to know?" he asked a bit tightly. It was strange, the two of them not fighting. Draco was still expecting this to all be some practical joke and for Potter to start laughing at him any minute now.

Harry glanced through the questions. He scribbled down Malfoy's birthday, the general location of his birth (he'd assumed Malfoy Manor, since according to Ron purebloods usually gave birth at home), and all the little details. "What time of day were you born?" he asked, still writing.

"Later in the evening," Draco answered, "Around eight or nine at night, when the moon is up." He was wondering why Potter wasn't asking for his birthday. Was it possible that the other boy knew? Draco obviously knew Potter's birthday, but so did everyone else in the wizarding world.

"Right, that's done, then," Harry said, rolling up the horoscope. He could do all the math and work out the symbols later. Malfoy didn't need to be here for that. "Alright, er... tea." He bit his lip and poured out a cup for each of them, then pushed one toward Malfoy. "Drink it fast, I guess."

"Be sure to tell me if there's impending doom in my future," Draco said sarcastically. He pulled the cup closer to himself. He added a dash of sugar, mixing it in lightly before taking a sip. Despite the awkward silence that surrounded them, Draco didn't force himself to inhale his tea. An uncomfortable ten minutes later, he put the cup down and pushed it towards Potter. "Have fun."

Harry had finished his own tea by the time Malfoy surrendered his cup. "Thanks," he said, picking it up and frowning at the dredges as he picked up his quill and prepared to take notes. "Er... okay... you've got an acorn... that's good, anyway? And... and a bicycle? Weird. I guess... that one could be a... maybe a flower... well... it all seems mostly good. Unless that's an eye..." He tipped the cup over onto the saucer and pushed it away. "I'll finish the rest of that when it cools," he decided. "I guess we can do the palm reading now, if you're ready?"

"Your powers of divination are just riveting," Draco deadpanned, looking at Potter with an unimpressed look. He had no idea what any of that meant, and it didn't seem like Potter was very keen on explaining. Draco extended his left hand, waiting expectantly for Potter to stare at it and make something up.

"No, it's--" Harry cut himself off. "I figured you wouldn't care what I actually saw. I mean, d'you really want me to tell you?" He thought for a second. "The acorn means happiness and good luck with money, the bicycle is that you should... well, make your own decisions, I guess." He ducked his head and took Malfoy's hand in his own, tilting it to examine it. "The flower could mean a lot of things, but the eye means you might make a choice soon. It's a good sign, though. Protection."

Draco thought quietly about what Potter had said, trying to apply it to his life. Obviously he had good luck with money. Draco likely wouldn't have to work for most of his life if he didn't want to. Making his own decisions and making a choice were both a little nerve wracking, even if his choice was protected or whatever that meant. "So, what does my palm say?" Draco asked with raised eyebrows, "Can you tell what kind of moisturizer I use? Perhaps the hand soap I prefer?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. He'd actually been pretty good at palm reading, boring and useless as he found Divination. The trick was knowing that it was forty percent magic displaying in people's hands and sixty percent bullshit, basically. At least in his mind. "I can tell you're obsessed with your appearance," he said, indicating a random mark above Malfoy's Head line. "And I can tell you have a lot of bad luck." He frowned at Malfoy's hand and traced his Heart line with one finger. That was unexpected. "Actually, you... wait, can I see your other hand?"

Draco got a rather surly expression on his face when Potter said he had bad luck. Thinking on it, he wasn't sure that he could disagree, but he still didn't like being told that. He got a little nervous when Potter asked for his other hand though. He'd been joking when he mentioned impending doom earlier, but now he was suddenly afraid that was what Potter was going to tell him. Of course, Divination was nonsense. Draco repeated that in his head as he showed Potter his right hand.

The non-dominant hand was meant to represent a person's past, which was why Harry had asked to see it. Malfoy's main lines were all deep and braided on his left, dominant hand, which meant trials and hardship, and light on his right. That, he'd sort of expected. He hadn't expected such deep lines in the area that indicated a reversal of personal beliefs. Looking at Malfoy's right hand, though, actually ended up telling Harry a lot more than he'd expected. "You've already changed your mind about a lot of things," he said, chewing on his lower lip as he examined the differences between Malfoy's hands, his hair falling into his eyes irritatingly. "And you've matured a lot recently." He glanced up and grinned at Malfoy briefly. "Shocking."

Draco pulled a face at Potter, reverting to child-like behavior in almost an instant, but there was still a hint of teasing in it rather than malice. It was strange that they weren't fighting. "Yes, I've recently decided that adding raw sugar to my tea tastes much better than adding refined sugar," Draco said dryly, "It was quite life changing. Truly. I feel like a real man now." The sarcasm was heavy in his voice, but Draco had more of a dry sense of humour than anything else.

Harry scoffed a laugh, ducking his head again to hide his amusement at Malfoy's antics. It was... strange, almost getting along like this. He was happy of it, for the sake of his assignment, but another small part of him was just pleased across the board. And Malfoy's palms were actually interesting. There was a lot going on. "Yes," he responded, deadpan, gesturing to a line running parallel to Malfoy's thumb. "There it is, I can see it now. The palette refinement line. Very bold. Good job, Malfoy."

"So what are the lines actually supposed to be?" Draco asked, unable to tamper down a little of his curiosity. Even if this was all nonsense and none of it was true, he couldn't deny that he wondered a little bit. All he knew about palm reading was that one of them was supposed to be a life line. He didn't really know anything else and he couldn't tell what Potter was doing.

"Well," Harry said, letting go of Malfoy's right hand in favour of lifting his left up a bit higher. "There're the lines, and there are the mounds. The bumps and valleys on your palm. Those are what you're really meant to be reading. Lines and mounds in different areas mean different things." He pointed out Malfoy's Heart line. "For example, your Heart line indicates some suffering, but it generally says you're... y'know... mentally stable." He made a face as if to say, 'but we both know that's nonsense', then continued quickly. "It also says you're more confident in... erm... physical relationships, I guess, than just talking to people..." He trailed off for a moment, then added, "But you're smart. And you like attention. Which we already knew."

Draco blinked in surprise, trying not to let it show on his face. All of that sounded true about himself, including the things that Potter should have no idea about, like his relationships. "Well, doing the right thing physically is easier than saying the right thing to the right person all the time," Draco sniffed, getting just a little defensive about it. Though he doubted that Potter was judging him. "What else does it say?" Draco asked, scooting a little bit closer so that he could look at his own palm as well.

"Erm," Harry said, glancing up at Malfoy, then forcing his eyes back down to their joined hands. "Well... your life line is... well, there's a few spots that look sort of... bad? Like... well those marks there mean that someone you admire or care about hurt you." He didn't know quite what to make of that. Ron didn't have those. Harry had quite a few, which was what had convinced him that some of it was actually valid, if not divinatory. He cleared his throat. "Anyway, your fate line is all twisted up."

Draco pressed his mouth into a thin line as he looked down at his palm. He couldn't tell one line from the next or the good spots from the bad spots, but he certainly could think of a few times in his life when he'd been hurt by someone he admired. The cause of a few of them was sitting in front of him, but no way was he ever going to tell Potter that. "What do you mean my fate line is twisted?" Draco asked, furrowing his brows, "What does that mean?"

"It means... well, it means your fate is all twisted up," Harry said, frowning. "Your fate line is about what you're planning to do with your life, and when you don't know, it's sort of vague. Yours is more... it's like you know, but you don't like it. Or you can't decide. Something about your future makes you... want a different future, I guess." His voice had quieted during his explanation, certain that at any moment, Malfoy was going to snatch his hand away, offended, and tell Harry he had no right making such ridiculous claims. He waited, still looking at Malfoy's hand.

Draco pulled his hand away from Potter, placing his hands in his lap instead and looking away. "I know what's expected of me," he stated simply. He'd always known what was expected of him. He'd never had a choice in the matter and that wasn't about to change. "I will be the heir that the Malfoy name requires," he said, not sure if he was trying to convince Potter or himself. The air between them had grown tense, but Draco didn't know why he didn't just get up and leave. They were finished, after all.

Harry sat there, blinking at Malfoy silently. He had no idea what to say to that. "Well--um," he started, then cleared his throat. He couldn't believe he was talking with Malfoy like this. It was surreal. "I mean, what would you change, if you could?"

Draco's voice was impossibly soft when he finally spoke. A slight breeze probably could've drowned him out. "Everything," he whispered. He knew exactly how the rest of his life was meant to go, and Draco wasn't excited about any of it.

"Oh," Harry said, struck dumb. He pushed past that, though he was unable to stop staring at Malfoy, more vulnerable than he'd ever seen him before. He groped for words and eventually managed to say, "What's keeping you from changing it?"

Draco chuckled bitterly. "Everything," he answered again. There was a sour smile on his face as he shook his head. "I will move on from Hogwarts, I will get a high-ranking job in the Ministry like my father, I will marry a pureblood witch that my parents choose, I will sire an heir, and then I will inherit the Manor and take my father's place in everything that he does," Draco listed off almost mechanically, "And if I do not, I will lose my home, my inheritance, and my parents."

"They'd disown you?" Harry asked, feeling a little distressed despite himself. He'd liked the side of Malfoy he'd met tonight, and now he was seeing a big part of the reason he'd never seen it before, if his guess was right. "Just like that, I mean? That's really harsh."

"Disowning me protects themselves," Draco explained, finally glancing back at Potter for a moment, "If I were to disgrace them by becoming a Healer or marrying a wizard or going to charity dinners instead of expensive auctions, the rest of pureblood society would look down on them. They would rather disown me than deal with the social repercussions."

"Yeah, but then they wouldn't have an heir," Harry said, confused. "Isn't continuing your family line more important than if you become a-- really? What's wrong with being a Healer?" That was just a strange thing to judge for. Healers helped people.

"Being a Healer is a disgusting profession," Draco quoted, reciting what his father had told him dozens of times, "Purebloods have no business being around the diseased and dying." He shrugged a bit, as though to say there was nothing he could do about that. "Most purebloods would choose to let their lines die out with dignity rather than allowing it to continue with someone that they view to be a disgrace."

Harry stared at Malfoy, shocked. They'd let their family die out rather than allow someone in it to do what made them happy. But that meant... "Hang on, were those real examples, then? You really want to be a Healer? And go to charity auctions and marry a--" Harry blinked several times when he remembered the last example Malfoy had used. "A wizard?"

Draco's cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. He'd just been speaking in the heat of the moment, not really thinking about what he was saying. He quickly began gathering up his things haphazardly. "I don't even know why I'm talking to you about any of this," he snapped, the blush still firmly on his cheeks, "You would never understand. And it doesn't matter. There's nothing I can do about it anyway so there's no point in complaining about it."

Harry grabbed Malfoy's wrist, stopping his frantic movements and trying to catch his eye. "Malfoy! Malfoy, hey, I didn't mean to-- it's not a /bad/ thing," he said quickly, hoping to calm him down somewhat. "It's a totally normal thing to want. I'm not judging you, if that's what you think, I promise."

Draco still looked like a cornered animal ready to bolt as he stared warily at Potter. Things seemed awkward between them now, Potter's hand still around his wrist and Draco still turned partially towards the exit. "Just another reason to disown me," he finally said, "It's not like I would be continuing the Malfoy line anyway. They might as well save their own reputations since the bloodline would end with me. Or, I do what they expect of me."

"Well," Harry said slowly, not letting go of Malfoy's wrist, though he gentled his grip. "Then the question is, what do you care more about? Yourself? Your happiness? Or your family line? If your parents are so willing to let it die, what does it even matter?"

"How could I just let it go?" Draco asked, an unreadable expression on his face, "My home, my family, my way of life, everything I've ever known. I've no idea how to provide for myself. It won't be all bad. I would like to have a son." That was the only positive that Draco could pull out of his future.

"Hermione says that two wizards can still have a child that's fully theirs," Harry suggested, thinking of a conversation they'd had recently. "You just need a surrogate, that's all. You could still have a son and also be happy, Malfoy."

Draco just shook his head. "You don't understand," he said simply, knowing that it was unlikely Potter ever would, "I need to have the right job and the right wife and the right social standing. Purebloods don't do unexpected things. They uphold tradition before anything else. Being with... a wizard is not traditional."

"Yeah but that's... sort of dumb," Harry said gently. Something about the idea of Malfoy handing his life over to something he hated rankled against everything Harry believed in. "You're going to be miserable for the rest of your life so that the people around you don't have to deal with who you are. That's dumb."

"Well, it's my life. Not yours," Draco said, meeting Potter's eyes, "You can go off and be whatever you want and marry whomever you please. This isn't something you'll ever have to concern yourself with. You'll probably just forget by tomorrow morning once Weasley and Granger start filling your head with Quidditch facts and career paths."

"I won't forget," Harry said, frowning. May as well say it first, before Malfoy gets a chance to make the dig Harry knows he's aiming at. "But I guess you're right. I don't have any parents to tell me I can't marry a wizard. So I probably will."

Draco looked away, a bit uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. "That's not what I meant," he said after a moment, "I just meant you're not in a wealthy, ancient pureblood family. We have a certain way of doing things. You won't ever have to be bothered with that. Even Weasley won't have to be bothered with it. I can name on one hand the students in this school in the same position as me. It's not common with all the halfbloods and Muggleborns sprouting up, but it's traditional."

"What if you met someone, though?" Harry asked, still not won over in the slightest by Malfoy's explanations. "And they loved you, and you loved them, and they wanted you to be happy and do all the things you want? And they'd support you? What would you do then?"

"That doesn't matter because it's not going to happen," Draco said easily, finally pulling his wrist out of Potter's grip, "To quote Granger, I believe I am a 'foul, evil, loathsome little cockroach'. I don't think I have to worry about someone falling in love with me."

"We were all thirteen back then," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "And I believe your palms just told us how much you've matured since then." He shrugged. "I don't think it's impossible. I think it's insane to throw away a chance at being happy just because someone else would rather you weren't."

"Everyone has to make sacrifices. You would know that better than anyone," Draco said quietly. He turned and left the kitchen, walking quickly in the hopes that Potter wouldn't be able to catch up with him. If Draco could make it to the Slytherin dormitories, then he could just forget about this until he saw Potter at breakfast the next day and was inevitably reminded.

Harry scrambled out of his seat and followed Malfoy out the door. He made it halfway to Slytherin before he realized he'd lost the idiot and wasn't going to catch him before he made it into his common room. And he'd left his bag and all his things in the kitchens. He turned around and trudged back to the basement, frowning to himself. That had been... a very unexpectedly illuminating divination reading. He wanted to know more about that part of Malfoy, he couldn't help himself. As he walked up to Gryffindor to finish his essay, he debated his options, and all through the essay, he reflected on what the things he was writing meant about Malfoy himself. If he'd gotten any sleep that night, he wouldn't have been surprised to dream about Malfoy, but as it was, he dragged himself down to the Great Hall the next morning half asleep and a little grumpy, though still keeping an eye out for his old rival. He wanted to talk to him.

Draco arrived at breakfast the next day with Pansy and Blaise beside him. He kept his gaze resolutely ahead, refusing to glance around. He still couldn't believe that he'd told Potter all of that. There had to have been something strange in that tea. It was the only logical explanation. Draco even went so far as to sit on the opposite side of the table that he usually did so that he was facing the wall instead of facing the Gryffindor table. It earned him a couple of raised eyebrows, but a haughty glare immediately had his classmates turning away and focusing on their own breakfasts. It was obvious to anyone that cared to look that Draco was trying far too hard to be casual as he carefully buttered his toast.

Malfoy wasn't in his usual seat. Harry was disoriented by that at first, thinking he just hadn't come to breakfast, until he spotted the blonde head facing away from him. Malfoy had put his back to the Gryffindor table. He'd never done that before, not in the entire time they'd gone to Hogwarts. This was bullshit. Harry spent the entirety of breakfast glaring at the back of his head, coming up with increasingly petulant arguments in his head as to why Malfoy should stop being a stupid wanker and be happy instead.

The entire time he was eating, Draco could feel eyes on him. He was sure that if he turned around, Potter would be staring holes into the back of his head. He took his time, waiting until almost everyone else got up to leave so that he could disappear into the crowd. Usually Draco left before everyone to avoid the mass of people. He didn't think there was anything wrong with studiously avoiding Potter. It's not like they saw each other much to begin with.

Harry grudgingly followed the crowd out of the Great Hall, aware that Malfoy had done that on purpose and annoyed about that as well. He followed as closely as he could all the way to class, and managed to catch up, walking just behind him. "You know I'm right," he said into Malfoy's ear, stepping sideways and busying himself with his books before anyone else could notice the exchange.

Draco jumped when he heard a voice in his ear, cheeks flushing pink at the weird looks he got from it. He couldn't exactly turn around and look for Potter, but he knew it was the other boy. He mumbled a transference spell, writing two words on a piece of parchment that would appear on Potter's glasses before disappearing. "Doesn't matter."

Harry tripped and caught himself just before falling, surprised at the parchment suddenly obscuring his vision. He scowled at the message and went to class, stubbornly annoyed and refusing to explain why to Ron or Hermione. They had a free period after this, and he was going to catch Malfoy alone and talk to him this time. He couldn't just let this go. It was driving him mad, all of it.

Draco forced himself to focus in class, taking his notes just like he normally would. None of his friends seemed to notice that anything was off with him, but that was just how Draco preferred it. Before leaving to walk to his next class, Draco glanced both ways down the hall. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he was expecting Potter to pop out from nowhere. Confident that the other boy wasn't around, Draco walked down the hall, just a few minutes earlier than his peers.

Harry had tucked the Map in his pocket this morning, and was glad of it. It meant that he was able to stalk Malfoy through the halls (a figure of speech; he wasn't really stalking him, no matter what Hermione may have said in the past) and choose the perfect opportunity to grab his wrist and tug him into a darkened alcove, just before a wave of students appeared in the hallway. All alone, Harry smirked. "Fancy seeing you here, Malfoy."

Draco let out a surprised noise when he was suddenly yanked to the side. He glared at Potter, straightening his robes even though they were still perfectly in place. "Oh yes, fancy seeing me at the place that you forcibly pulled me into," he said dryly. He crossed his arms as he looked at Potter. "What do you want?" Draco asked, "We have nothing more to talk about."

"I don't want you to be miserable," Harry said, getting right to the point and scowling while he did it. "It's... a terrible idea, Malfoy. I'm offended by it. You should seriously reconsider."

"Oh well I'm so sorry that my life choices offend you," Draco said sarcastically, matching Potter's scowl, "I don't see why it's any of your concern if I'm miserable or not. Not so long ago, you would've thrown a party at hearing that I'm miserable."

"No I wouldn't!" Harry denied hotly. Then he paused to reconsider. "Maybe in fifth year. You were a real arsehole back then. But I like you, now. And I like you even better since last night."

"I was an arse for practically my entire life," Draco hissed, wanting to yell but not wanting people to find them in here and make assumptions, "And now it's come back to bite me. There's nothing to be done about it, whether you decide you like me or not."

"What, are you punishing yourself or something?" Harry asked incredulously. "Because that's an awful idea. You've paid for being an arse already, Malfoy, it's over."

"As if I could pay for the shit I've done," Draco snapped, crossing his arms defensively, "I could spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it and it wouldn't be enough."

"You could've been twice as big a bastard when we were kids," Harry said, his voice going lower and softer without quite meaning to, "And you still wouldn't have deserved what happened to you during the war, Malfoy. I was there, I know."

Draco took in a shaky breath, avoiding Potter's eyes at all costs. "I deserved everything then and I deserve everything now," he said stiffly, "It's my fault the Battle of Hogwarts even happened. Fifty years from now, children are going to open their history textbooks and read 'Draco Lucious Malfoy was the youngest and last Death Eater to receive the Dark Mark. Operating under orders from Lord Voldemort, he repaired a Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement and allowed Death Eaters to break through Hogwarts' defenses.' And then they can read about how I am the reason Albus Dumbledore is dead or about how the Carrows tortured first years because I opened the door to the castle or perhaps they can read about the people tortured in the Manor." Angry tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but Draco turned his face away so that Potter couldn't see.

The way Malfoy said that, so resigned, made Harry almost angry again. "The winner writes those books," he said, taking Malfoy's wrist again and tugging at him, trying to get him to look at Harry. "D'you know who won, Malfoy?" He grinned a little, tilting his head a bit, still trying to get Malfoy to look at him. "One guess, and you get to call me arrogant."

Draco finally relented and looked at Potter, but only when he was positive that he didn't look like he was going to cry anymore. The last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of Potter. "As arrogant as you are, Chosen One, even you can't deny the facts," Draco said after a moment.

"I'm not denying anything," Harry said, watching Malfoy closely. "The facts as I see them are that you were told to either fix that cabinet or your parents would be dead. I know because Voldemort and I... interacted a lot." He swallowed hard and continued. "I know you didn't expect to get the Mark so early. I know you lowered your wand when Dumbledore offered you safety for your family, and Snape ended up killing Dumbledore instead, because he'd already promised Dumbledore that he would. Because he was dying already." Harry ducked his head, took a deep breath and continued. "I know that Voldemort moved in with you and tortured plenty of people in your house, and that by the end of it, you and your mum had both saved my life independently of each other, and that when your dad asked Voldemort if he could storm the castle, he just wanted to find you and make sure you were okay. That's what's going in the history books."

"Why do you even care about this?" Draco snapped, unsure of how he could respond to everything Potter had said, "If I want to punish myself then that's my business." He tried to pull his wrist out of Potter's grasp, but the other boy wasn't letting go. "Why does it matter how I go about the rest of my life?"

Harry glared at Malfoy, astounded that he still refused to see any kind of reason. Fine, if he wanted to be obtuse, Harry would make the point he was trying to make by beating him over the head with it. Metaphorically speaking. He tugged at the wrist he still held in his hand and pulled Malfoy closer with it. Before he could figure out Harry's plan, he'd leaned in and pressed his mouth to Malfoy's, his free hand carefully cradling Malfoy's jaw.

It was a brief, chaste kiss, and when Harry pulled away, he dropped Malfoy's wrist as well, just in case he needed it to hit him or something. "It matters because there are people who like you," he said. "And who would like you to like yourself. And... because you could be happy, Malfoy. We didn't all almost die just to hate the rest of our lives."

Draco stared wide-eyed at Potter, the other having pulled away before Draco could even react. He could still feel the slight pressure of Potter's lips against his own and he had to fight the cliche urge to run his fingers across his lips. He didn't know what he wanted to do, dozens of reactions fighting inside of him all at once. After a moment of being completely frozen, Draco launched himself at Potter. He pressed their lips together again, burying his hands in dark, messy hair. Kissing Potter was much easier than trying to sort out his feelings and talk to him.

Harry had been prepared for a range of reactions, but this enthusiastic kiss was not one of them. That didn't mean he was about to turn it down, though, so he made a small, pleased sound in his throat, wrapped one arm around Malfoy's waist, and kissed back, leaning against the wall behind him and sliding his hand up Malfoy's spine, to grip his shoulder and pull him in closer.

They should almost definitely be talking about this instead of kissing, but Draco wasn't very good at expressing his feelings and he much preferred doing this. He parted his lips, coaxing Potter to do that same as they were pressed even closer together. This was certainly a turn that he hadn't expected his day to take.  
Harry groaned low in his throat, parting his lips for Malfoy. The kiss turned hot and desperate, each of them fighting for control over it. Honestly, Harry didn’t expect anything else from a kiss with Malfoy. 

Draco pushed impossibly closer until he could nudge a leg between Potter’s thighs. Everything felt rushed and intense and the thought of stopping crossed his mind for a moment before he pushed it away. This could very well be his only chance and Draco wasn’t going to give it up. 

Harry moaned outright at the pressure against his groin and he immediately began rocking against Malfoy’s leg. He could feel the other boy’s hardness against his leg as well and that just made him want it even more. Eventually the kiss broke off, the two of them just panting against each other’s mouths as they moved together. 

It was Draco who made the first moved to get rid of some clothing. He reached between Potter’s robes and deftly undid his trousers, taking hold of his cock. He swiped his thumb over the tip, using the precum to make the slide of his hand a little smoother. He slammed their lips together again, swallowing Potter’s moan. 

Harry moaned into Malfoy’s mouth, his knees feeling weak at the pleasure. It took him a while to get with the program, but he managed to get his hand on Malfoy’s cock as well, stroking it with a confidence that he really didn’t have. 

Draco whined as Potter touched him, pressing their foreheads together when he could no longer keep up with the kiss. It didn’t take long before Draco’s body went tense and he was coming over Potter’s hand. 

Seeing Malfoy come was one of the hottest things that Harry had ever experienced and it didn’t take long for him to tumble over the edge as well. Soon they were just standing there against the wall, panting and sweaty as they looked at one another. “So… maybe don’t marry a witch?” Harry said breathlessly. 

Draco just smiled. “Maybe I won’t,” he hummed softly, pressing a chaste kiss to Potter’s lips.


End file.
